“But, Aunt Sylvia,” said Rose, “you wouldn't stop everybody's getting married? Why, there wouldn't be any people in the world in a short time.”
“There's some people in the world now that would be a good sight better off out of it, for themselves and other folks,” said Sylvia.
“Then you don't think anybody ought to get married?”
“If folks want to be fools, let them. Nothing I can say is going to stop them, but I'll miss my guess if some of the girls that get married had the faintest idea what they were going into they would stop short, if it sent them over a rail-fence. Folks can't tell girls everything, but marriage is an awful risk, an awful risk. And I say, as I said before, any girl who has got enough to live on is a fool to get married.”
“But I don't see why, after all.”
“Because she is,” replied Sylvia.
This time Rose did not attempt to bruise herself against the elder woman's imperturbability. She did not look convinced, but again the troubled expression came over her face.
“I am glad you relished your supper,” said Sylvia.
“It was very nice,” replied Rose, absently. Suddenly the look of white horror which had overspread her countenance on the night of her arrival possessed it again.
“What on earth is the matter?” cried Sylvia.